Flicker of the Flame: The Outlawed Myth, #2

By Evelyn Puerto

An ancient prophecy, now an outlawed myth. Secrets, long kept, that can kill. A young girl who was never meant to be born. 

 

Tereka Sabidur's life has never been fair. Her brothers always went unpunished while she was mocked and abused. When her mother's rages escalate into violence, the truth of Tereka's parentage is revealed, and Tereka and her father end up on the street. 

 

Undaunted, Tereka seeks to put her shattered life back together. But she soon learns everything she believed about herself, her family and her world was a lie. Between a cryptic prophecy, three magic amulets, and those who seek to murder her, she becomes embroiled in a fight for her life. 

 

As the threats against Tereka mount, she unlocks the mysteries surrounding her birth, she is faced with an impossible choice.

 

Will she embrace the scandalous truth—and her impossible destiny—before the secrets of her past destroy her?

 

Scroll up and one-click to join the adventure today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evelyn Puerto
• Release date: May 18, 2021
• ISBN: 9780990971573

Book preview

1

Tereka hadn’t been sure of much in her twelve years, but this she knew: she had one chance. Just one.

She winced under her mother’s scowl, cringing at the sharp words and the tone that cut like winter wind. Would it be too hard for you to make yourself useful for once?

Mam, if you please. Tereka tried to keep the pleading out of her voice. I’d be happy to watch Aito while you do your errands.

Her mother scowled. Prove to me you’re not too stupid to do the simplest task. Buy tea and candles. Get your brother something to eat. And be back here in an hour. No later.

Yes, Mam. I can do all that. You’ll see. Tereka nodded emphatically. If she could please her mother just this once, then maybe, just maybe, she’d be kinder. Treat her like a member of the family instead of an intruder.

Her mother waved her hand, shooing Tereka and her three-year-old brother out the door in front of her.

Tereka’s twin, Tirk, was already standing in the lane. Hurry up, Tereka. Aito wants to see the ducks.

Aito tugged on Tereka’s hand. See ducks. See geese! He made a honking noise. Tereka thought that for such a tiny boy, it was a fine impression of a goose fighting for food.

She ruffled his hair and smiled. Clever boy, aren’t you?

Her mother slammed the wooden door of their house shut and locked it. Be back in an hour.

Tereka grabbed the back of her younger brother’s dove-gray tunic as he took a toddling step into the muddy lane. I will. She didn’t need to be told why. Today was Aito’s third birthday and their Aunt Juquila was throwing him a feast. Her mother wouldn’t want to be late for that. As syndic of their town of Trofmose, Aunt Juquila oversaw trade and commerce. Which meant she occasionally had exotic foods no one else did. Foods much tastier than gruel or coarse bread.

She watched her mother stalk down the stony lane, her ash-colored dress swirling around her ash-colored leggings, the orange band around her shoulder that proclaimed her a vendor the one bright spot in her drab appearance.

Tereka sighed. Her mother had never let her set foot in her aunt’s house. Tirk and Aito were always invited, but never her. Maybe today would be different.

Tereka hoisted Aito to her hip, her basket dangling from her arm. She scurried after her mother. Tirk tapped her shoulder and grinned when she turned to look at him. He always had her back. She smiled into his sepia brown eyes, so unlike her bright blue ones.

Watch out. Tirk grabbed her shoulder and pulled her to the side just as she was about to step on a mangled rat carcass. She shuddered and skipped past it, dodging the other villagers who trudged along the dreary lane. We need to hurry, Tirk. She sped up to pass a row of wooden houses, all the same as their own. Two rooms―a kitchen and sleeping room―small windows with shutters, and peeling paint.

Their mother strode ahead. Don’t lose your brother. And be sure you don’t overpay for the tea. She flapped a hand at them and disappeared into the gray-clad throngs at the market.

The tension in Tereka’s chest ebbed. Now they could have some fun. What do you think, Tirk? Errands first? Or pasties?

A smile crossed his brown cheeks. Pasties, of course. If we wait, the best ones will be gone. He pushed past the tea vendor, dodged a dog worrying a bone, and jumped over a puddle, splashing the hems of his gray trousers. Tereka hoisted Aito higher and hurried after Tirk.

She caught up with him at the pastie vendor’s stall, where she breathed in the scent of onions, frying meat, sugar, and fruit.

Tirk pointed. Look, they have hopberry.

Her favorite.

Aito patted her head. Pastie.

Which one would you like, my love? Tereka kissed his smooth cheek, the same brown as Tirk’s.

Pastie. Please, Terter. Aito tugged on her short dark hair.

Tirk bought four pasties, two stuffed with hopberries and two with cabbage, counting out the bronze sheaves and dropping the coins in the vendor’s hand. Then he broke off a corner of one and handed it to Aito. He gave the rest to his sister.

Tereka set the squirming Aito down and firmly grasped his hand. She took a bite of pastie and strolled down the narrow lane between the market stalls. Vendors called to passersby, offering candles and crockery, boots and baskets. The clanging of the blacksmith’s hammer competed with the horn that sounded the arrival or departure of a caravan.

As they ate, they made their way through the central square of the market, dominated by the monument to Prosperity in the center. Tereka wasn’t sure what she thought about the monument. The bronze people held large baskets overflowing with bread, vegetables, and fruit. The statue people certainly looked well-fed, but their clothes were the same shapeless cut as any villager, their hair fixed in the same regulation manner. Surely a prosperous people could afford better clothing. Surely they wouldn’t all have to look the same.

Except for the shoulder bands, a different color for every profession. And the colored ribbons women tied around the handles of their baskets, the color the only choice they were free to make.

A caravan of wagons had lined up in the square, brown-clad traders standing near their horses, chatting with guardsmen who wore black and carried swords and bows. Not for the first time, Tereka wondered why traders and guards didn’t have to wear gray.

Tirk nudged her with his elbow. That will be me next year. His eyes shone. I can’t wait to travel around with Da and see something other than this dumpy town.

A knot formed in Tereka’s stomach. Just last week their da had told Tirk he could start as his apprentice. What would she do without Tirk? He’d always been the buffer between her and their mother. Tirk strode down the line of wagons, chattering around mouthfuls of pastie about accompanying their father on trade runs to far off towns like Pir Bakran, Anbodu, and Litavye. Tereka took a firmer grip on Aito’s hand. She didn’t understand Tirk’s excitement about seeing other places. Everyone in Tlefas had to be the same. To make things fair, they said. The other towns wouldn’t be much different than their own. I’ll miss you, she said.

Tirk didn’t seem to hear. He grabbed Aito’s other hand. Come on. Let’s get to those ducks. I’ll race you! He trotted ahead of Tereka, pulling a laughing Aito along.

Then abruptly, he dropped Aito’s hand. Can you take him? I’ll be right back. He ran over to a group of boys gathered around the miller and a trader who were exchanging shouted insults.

Tereka rolled her eyes. Boys. Nothing more exciting for them than a fight.

Aito tugged at her hand. More.

She broke off another piece of pastie and handed it to him, putting the rest in her mouth. Ready to see the ducks?

He smiled, dark purple hopberries smeared above his lips. Ya! Geese, too?

Tereka laughed. Of course. She pulled a rag from the pocket of her ash-colored dress and wiped his mouth. She took his hand and led him toward the pens that housed the poultry, careful to avoid the piles of waste left by roaming dogs.

A hard thump on her back nearly knocked her to her knees. She staggered and let go of Aito’s hand. Something crashed behind her. A youth not much older than herself, clad in brown trousers and tunic with a white band around one shoulder, lay sprawled on the ground, an overturned box and broken pottery lying beside him on the cobblestones. It seemed to Tereka that this trader’s apprentice had been in too much of a hurry.

The apprentice groaned and stood up. If you please, I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there. Are you safe?

Tereka laughed. Yes, I’m unhurt. And you?

He grimaced. Safe for the moment, but not when my da sees what I broke.

Tereka glanced at Aito. He was sitting on the stones, staring at the nearest horse. Stay there, she said to him, setting her basket next to him. She stooped and picked up some shards of pottery. I hope you won’t get in too much trouble. She tossed the pieces in the box and reached for another. Oh, look, this one’s not broken.

At least one, then. He scooped up the remaining large pieces and added them to the box. Thank you. He grabbed the box and ran off.

Aito, let’s go. When she turned, her breath caught in her throat. Her basket sat alone, its bright blue ribbon fluttering in the breeze. The boy had vanished. She scanned the nearby area, wondering how he could have moved so quickly. She’d only been a few heartbeats helping the clumsy apprentice.

A flicker of motion caught her eye. There he was, standing near a pair of black horses that were hitched to a wagon in the caravan. Aito was patting one horse’s leg, his gray clothing looking almost white in contrast. Tereka darted past a group of traders. The black horse took a step forward and Aito fell, right in the path of the wagon wheel. She sped forward and dove for her little brother, grabbing him and rolling with him onto the hard stones.

She clutched Aito to her chest, panting hard. He let out a sob.

Don’t cry. We’re safe. We’re fine. She murmured the words as much for herself as to quiet him.

When her heart no longer pounded in her ears, she sat up. Let’s go, shall we? She stood up and took a firm hold on his hand. She’d only taken a few steps when Tirk ran over to her.

Tereka, what happened? Look at you.

She glanced down. Her gray dress was streaked with mud. Aito had mud and the remnants of the hopberries on his chin. She closed her eyes. Mam will be so angry.

A cuff on the back of the head made her eyes fly open. What have you done, foolish girl?

Her mother had found them. And before Tereka had bought the tea.

Mam, I―

I spend a few minutes with my sister, only to find that my daughter has somehow caused some valuable pottery to break and got my son covered in mud. How careless can you be? You’re as unsafe as any bandit.

The rebuke stung Tereka as if her mother had struck her. It wasn’t exactly like that―

Her mother cut her off. She stabbed Tereka in the chest with her finger. Take Aito to the bathhouse and get him cleaned up. I’ll deal with you later. She screwed her face into a frown. Have you done the shopping?

No, if you please. I wanted to feed Aito first―

Her mother ignored her. Tirk, you do it. She pointed toward the market stalls then strode away, disappearing into the crowd.

Tereka let her shoulders sag. She’d failed again. Maybe her mother was right. She was useless. And now there would be no feast for her. If she was lucky, that would be the end of her punishment. Tirk put a hand on her shoulder, gave her half a smile, then walked off. A little of the pain in her chest eased. She knew he’d smuggle her food later. He usually did. She hoped this time he wouldn’t fail her.

2

Two hours later, Tereka was no longer thinking of food. She squirmed as blood trickled down her legs. She wasn’t sure which was worse: the throbbing of her wounds or the nagging itch of drying blood.

Her knees weakened and she sagged against the kitchen table. She took deep, slow breaths, listening intently for the sounds of her family’s return. Probably they’d be gone a few more hours. Then, maybe, her mother would allow her to go into the only other room of their house―the one they all slept in―and lie down.

She thought back to the events of the past few hours. All she’d done was try to accomplish the errands her mother had given her. Her failure had unleashed the worst abuse she’d experienced yet. Her mother often singled her out for punishment. Tereka commonly bore the brunt of Mam’s anger when Tirk was equally guilty. He never received more than harsh words or a slap in the face.

This time, Tereka’s punishment broke like a thunderstorm that had brooded for days, its destructive energy building until it could be contained no more.

When they’d arrived home, her mother had sent Tirk and Aito into the sleeping room. Then she turned on Tereka, screaming. A spawn of warboars like you is not worthy to set foot in my sister’s house! Why should you go? It’s your brother’s birthday, not yours.

Tereka wanted to point out that her mother never acknowledged her birthday except as an afterthought included grudgingly with the celebration of Tirk’s.

Her mother’s rage continued unabated. She picked up a mug and hurled it at Tereka. Clean that up. She spat the words.

Knowing that obedience was her only chance to ease her mother’s wrath, Tereka fetched a broom and started to sweep.

Mam kept up a stream of abuse as Tereka worked, telling her she was worthless, stupid, and ugly. An embarrassment. None of this was new but every word left a wound on Tereka as if she’d been pierced with a spear.

Tirk entered the kitchen, leading Aito by the hand. Mam, are you ready to go? he asked.

Tereka silently thanked him. Maybe the interruption would be enough to calm down their mother.

Not quite, Mam said. Take Aito to your aunt’s. I’ll be along soon.

What about Tereka?

Never mind her. Just go.

Tirk opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. He looked at Tereka and winced.

She understood. The only time Mam’s wrath descended on Tirk was when he tried to defend Tereka. And whenever he did, her abuse of Tereka was that much worse. The twins had learned early on that any help Tirk gave Tereka had to be rendered in secret.

The door to the street closed on Tereka’s two brothers. Mam stalked over to her. Give me the broom.

She complied.

Pull up your skirt and take off your leggings.

Her eyes widened. Mam, what did you say?

You heard me.

Tereka did as her mother ordered, pushing her gray leggings down to her ankles and kicking them off. Her mother glared and pointed at her skirt. Tereka pulled the gray, shapeless garment up to her waist. Her face grew hot despite the chill in the room.

Turn around.

When Tereka hesitated, Mam said, Now.

Somehow the growl in that voice scared Tereka more than if her mother had shrieked. Her heart raced. She turned away, screwed her eyes shut, and clenched her sweaty hands.

She cried out in pain when Mam hit her bare legs with the broom handle.

That’s one, said Mam. Eleven to go. One for every year I’ve put up with such an ugly spawn as you.

Tereka tried to fight back her screams as her mother beat her. She’d learned long ago that making noise only infuriated her mother. She whimpered as she felt her flesh break and bruise.

When Mam finished, she threw the broom on the floor. You will stand there until we return. Don’t you move and get blood on your clothes. You’ll be sorry if you do. She leaned in close. And don’t even think about telling your da. When he gets back and hears the story, you know he’ll agree with me. You got less than you deserved.

When the door slammed shut, Tereka closed her eyes. She gripped her skirt tightly and let the tears fall, the tears she’d held back so Mam wouldn’t see her pain. What was wrong with her that her own mother treated her so badly?

It wasn’t fair that Mam always singled her out. Tirk could break a stool or run under a horse and her mother would just smile. For Tereka, asking a simple question would unleash abuse.

Was it because she was a girl? Tirk and Aito were scolded but never ridiculed. Perhaps Mam had only wanted boys.

Or hated her for being ugly. Tereka resembled no one in the family. Her mother had deep auburn hair and brown skin. Da’s hair was dark brown, his bronze skin a few shades lighter than Mam’s. Tirk and Aito were somewhere in between, favoring Da more than their mother.

But her? The only feature she’d inherited was her da’s hair. She often wondered where her golden-tan skin and vivid blue eyes had come from. She’d asked Da once. He’d mumbled something about lighter-skinned grandparents. Then he refused to answer any more questions.

Dark spots danced in front of her and the floor of the room tipped. She rested her hands on the kitchen table, willing herself not to faint.

After a few deep breaths, the room stopped spinning. She let her mind wander into a daydream of someone coming to her rescue, a handsome young man with kind, dark eyes who seized the broom from her cowering mother. And took Tereka far away to a place of light and safety.

The pulsing in her wounds made it difficult to get lost in the fantasy. Instead, thoughts on ways to avoid more abuse jumbled in her mind. How could she prevent this severe kind of punishment? Be more careful? Or maybe try to anticipate her mother’s needs, help her more with Aito?

She pushed away the thought that she was already doing her best, but she couldn’t predict her mother’s rages. She sighed heavily. She didn’t see what she could do about them.

Tereka jerked upright when she heard the front door click open. She turned to see her father step into the house. Her heart sank. He hadn’t been due back until tomorrow. He would be sure to support Mam’s punishment.

Tereka? His eyes were round and his square jaw hung open. He kicked the door shut and dropped his pack on the floor. What happened? Who did this to you? He took three quick steps to stand next to her.

She thought about what to say that wouldn’t make things worse. I was punished.

Da made a strangled noise. For what?

Aito got dirty.

Aito got dirty. There was no mistaking the anger in his voice. Tereka braced herself for more torment.

My dear girl. His voice cracked. My dear, precious girl. I am so sorry. He touched her cheek with a trembling hand.

Tereka’s eyes widened. He was sorry she was punished? Mam had always told her that Da’s punishments would be far worse than hers, that she was doing Tereka a favor by disciplining her and hiding her atrocious behavior from her father. And that any appeals to her da would only earn her a double dose.

He gently stroked the top of her head. I’m going to clean you up as best I can.

Her jaw went slack as he fetched some rags and picked up the bucket of water that stood in the corner of the kitchen. But Mam will want the water later, she said.

He knelt beside her. I don’t care. You need it now. He dabbed gently at her wounds. I’m so sorry. Every time she winced, he said it again. I’m so sorry. He wiped the blood from her legs. Can you stand there for just a few more minutes? I’ve got something for the pain.

She nodded, unable to speak. One thought chased another. Mam said his punishments would be harsh. But he was always kind when he was home. Was that because he never noticed she did anything wrong?

Then again, Mam never hit her when Da was around. She bit her lip, wondering if Mam had been lying all these years.

Da dug in his pack and produced a small blue jar. This may sting a bit. Ever so gently, he patted the cream on her wounds. He was right, it did sting. But only for a second. She let out a long breath as the burning, stinging agony subsided. The ointment had a faint floral scent that was oddly soothing. Just a few more minutes, dear girl. Let me bandage you up.

Now that her mind wasn’t consumed with pain, her face flushed. She wanted to crawl under a blanket and never be seen again. She wished he would hurry so she wouldn’t be so exposed.

He tore some cloth into strips. Lean over the table. He draped the cloth strips over her backside and legs then wrapped more around her thighs. Here, hold your skirt just a little higher. She did as he asked, allowing him to wrap more cloth around her waist, securing the bandages in place. He pulled her skirt down into place. Right. Now, can you stand? He put a hand under her arm, lifting her.

Tears welled in her eyes and she swayed against him. She struggled to find words. Thank you.

It’s the least I can do. He shuddered. What can I get you? Something to drink? To eat? Or do you want to lie down?

She flushed and looked down. Actually, I need the bucket.

Of course. He helped her into the sleeping room to the covered bucket they used during the night when they didn’t want to go to the outdoor privy. Can you manage?

She nodded.

Call if you need me. He left the bedroom and went into the kitchen.

Tereka used the bucket, almost moaning with relief. She wasn’t sure if she would have been able to wait much longer. Who knows what her mother would have done if she had wet herself. There would have been another beating if Tereka had left the table to do her business in the bucket, that much was sure.

She staggered to her pile of straw and eased herself face down, hissing and wincing with every motion. After a few moments, her da returned. The straw crackled as he sat next to her.

Tereka, tell me what happened. Surely all this didn’t happen because your brother got dirty.

Her muscles tensed. What could she tell him without making things worse with her mother? She turned her head to look at him. His dark eyes were strained, his forehead creased. Well, maybe there was more. Today is Aito’s third birthday.

I know. That’s why I came back a day early. Where is everyone?

At Aunt Juquila’s.

Da pulled his eyebrows together. Why didn’t you go with them?

Because I’m never invited. She gulped, then words tumbled out of her without her meaning to say them. Because I’m ugly spawn. She closed her eyes so she couldn’t see his face.

What? His voice was a low, menacing growl like thunder that was far away. Who told you that?

She squeezed her eyes tighter.

Da stroked her hair. It was either your mother or your aunt, or both. Am I right? His tone softened. Please tell me.

I can’t.

Why not?

Because she’ll punish me.

When he didn’t respond, she opened her eyes. He sat with his face in his hands. She tried to come up with something so he wouldn’t be angry. I’m sorry.

Da dropped his hands and gasped. No. No. I’m the one who’s sorry. The one who should be sorry.

Sorry about what?

Tears sparkled in the corners of his eyes. Tell me. Tereka. Have you been beaten before?

Yes. Her voice shook.

Did it always happen when I was gone?

She hesitated. Yes.

He flinched. Why didn’t you ever tell me?

What? It was her turn to be puzzled. You didn’t know?

Of course, I didn’t know! Do you think I would want you to be abused like this? His face flushed and his eyes narrowed. When did this start?

About three years ago, I guess.

Has it ever been this bad?

No. She’s never hit me on my bare skin before. And today, it seemed like something broke and she took out her anger on me. I don’t know for what. Her breath caught in her throat. Why is it always me? Tirk never gets in trouble. Or Aito. She hated how her voice sounded whiny. It’s not fair.

No, it’s not, dear girl. But I still don’t understand why you never told me.

Tereka paused. Should she tell him? His kindness now didn’t change the fact that she’d be left alone with Mam while he was off to do his trading. She might be punished a hundredfold.

But all her da had said and done since he’d come home was to help her. Her heart beat faster as she decided what to say. Because she said that whatever punishment she gave me, you’d do twice as much.

She looked down as she spoke, bracing herself for his reaction.

There was a moment of silence. Then he said quietly, What?

Tereka repeated her words. Then she looked at him. His mouth had fallen open. He snapped it shut and ground his teeth together. She’d never seen his face so dark, his eyes so fierce. Not angry. Enraged. She shuddered. Please don’t be angry with me, Da.

His eyes softened. No, Tereka, I’m not angry with you. His voice shook. I promise you one thing. This will never happen to you again. Ever.

A weight lifted from her, then fell back on her with a thud. Could he promise that? He was often gone, sometimes for a week or more at a time. And when he argued with Mam, she’d mutter a few words to him and he’d back down. She buried her face in the sheet covering the straw.

Tereka. Da laid his hand on her head. Can I get you anything? Or would you rather sleep?

I’m thirsty.

He fetched a mug of water from the kitchen.

She drank it down in one gulp, savoring the coolness on her dry and scratchy throat.

More? Or some tea? You need something for the pain.

Tea, if you please. Da, she knew, had a small stash of tea he picked up on his travels. Tea that could reduce fever and ease pain. He took the mug from her and returned to the kitchen.

Once he left the room, Tereka wrapped her arms around herself. This couldn’t be happening. None of it. She was beaten and Da was angry with Mam, not her. He was helping her. It didn’t feel real.

When Da returned with a steaming mug of tea, Tereka rolled to her side. Um, shouldn’t we clean up the kitchen? Empty the bucket?

You’re not cleaning anything. You need to rest. And I’m not leaving you alone until I’ve had a word with Groa. Your mother has a lot to answer for. He gestured to the mug. Drink up.

She sipped, savoring the warmth in her stomach that echoed the growing hope in her soul. Da was going to defend her against her mother. Maybe she wouldn’t have to wait for a fantasy boy to rescue her after all.

3

Tereka shifted on her straw. The sharp ends poked her skin, prodding her out of her uneasy doze, part of her remaining alert for sounds of her mother’s return. From the shadows on the floor she guessed she’d slept an hour or two. Cautiously she stretched one leg, then the other. All that remained of the stinging pain was a soreness that hurt when she moved. What magic healing had Da done? She twitched a corner of her mouth. Too bad there was no such thing as magic. She’d have to ask him about that salve he’d used. It would be good to have on hand the next time Mam got out her broomstick.

She turned her head to discern the source of the dull muttering sound in the room. Da sat on the straw he shared with Mam. He was staring into space, his lips moving, shaking his head. Clearly, he was troubled about something. His shoulders slumped and he had an air of defeat or failure about him.

Could it be that he really didn’t know about Mam’s abusiveness? Tereka pursed her lips. Mam was unpredictable, her moods changing by the minute. And they were always worse when Da was gone.

A clicking sound told her someone was opening the front door. She raised herself from the bed. Da motioned for her to stay where she was.

Girl! The harsh tone of Mam’s voice made Tereka cower. I ordered you to stay where you were. Now you’re really going to get it. She stormed into the sleeping room and advanced on Tereka.

Tereka covered her head with her hands and curled her legs to her chest.

I don’t think so, Da said.

Tereka blinked. Had she heard that right?

Mam spun around. When did you get here?

A few hours ago. And it was quite a welcome. There I was imagining we’d all celebrate Aito’s birthday. What do I find instead? Da had started speaking in a cool tone. Now his voice was as cold as a gust of winter’s wind. My daughter half-naked, bleeding and beaten.

Tereka stared first at Da, then Mam. Da was defending her against her mother. Something Mam had said would never happen.

Her mother pulled herself up to her full height and stuck her chin out. She deserved it.

Did she, Groa? What was her horrible crime? Tereka didn’t miss the sarcasm in Da’s voice. She wondered if Mam had.

She allowed Aito to muddy himself while she was supposed to be watching him. When she complained that I wouldn’t allow her to come with us to Juquila’s, I was forced to restrain her.

Is that a fact? Would Tirk tell me the same story?

Don’t you bring my son into this. It’s bad enough he has to live with your spawn.

Groa. There was a time when you were glad of her—

Another person sauntered into the room. Oh, Tarkio, it’s been too long, cooed Juquila, Mam’s twin sister.

Juquila. It’s always a pleasure. From the edge in Da’s voice, Tereka wasn’t so sure he meant it.

For me as well. Tell me, why are you giving my sister a hard time?

Perhaps it’s because she’s been giving our daughter a hard time.

Tereka’s breath caught. Horrible would have been a better word.

Juquila waved her hand in the air. The girl’s difficult to manage. I keep telling Groa she’s not hard enough on her.

Da spoke softly. So you think that beating her till the blood flows down her legs and forcing her to stand half-naked for hours isn’t hard enough. By the time he finished speaking, he’d raised his voice and it shook with suppressed rage.

Juquila took a step back. She opened her mouth, then closed it and shrugged. Wonder what she did this time?

I don’t care what she did. This is never to happen again. Do you understand me? As he spoke, he stepped to Mam. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her toward him. Do you understand?

Perfectly. Groa shook off his hands. It’s you who doesn’t understand.

About what?

Today is Aito’s third birthday.

What of it? And thank you, by the way, for not waiting until I was due home tomorrow to have the feast.

Mam smirked. Aito is our third child. He has lived for three years. And the other two still live.

Da frowned. So?

Juquila laughed, her large, dark eyes glittering. Not as quick as you usually are. Too bad.

Da glanced from one sister to the other. Third child. Three years. You’re not serious.

Oh, but I am. Mam’s smile widened. You know the law. Once a couple’s third child reaches its third birthday, and the other two are still alive, they can separate.

You want to separate. Da’s tone was flat, as if he was asking for more tea.

It’s what I’ve been waiting for these past twelve years. She curled her lip in Tereka’s direction. Ever since her. You’ve used me long enough. I don’t want you here one more day. And take your road child with you.

Tereka gasped. Road child was one insult Mam had never flung at her before.

Da took a deep breath. You will not stop me from seeing my boys.

Tereka’s skin tingled. Was Da choosing her over her brothers?

Whatever you like. Just so you’re not living here. Mam spun on her heel left the room.

Juquila smirked at Da. How I enjoyed seeing that look on your face. The stupefied one. She followed her sister into the kitchen.

Tereka stared at Da for a long moment. They were being thrown out, like so much rubbish. Mam didn’t want them. The stab of rejection was replaced with the balm of relief. She wouldn’t have to endure Mam’s abuse anymore. Good riddance to her, but what about her brothers? And what did her mother mean, calling her Da’s road child? Her breath caught in her throat. Did that mean Mam wasn’t—. No. She stopped herself from completing that thought.

Da stood staring at the floor, rubbing his chin. Then he nodded as if coming to a decision. He walked to the door to the kitchen. Tirk, come in here.

Tirk, tall with the same ruddy bronze skin and dark eyes as his father, sidled into the room. Yes, Da?

I’m sure you know what’s going on here.

Tirk’s eyes widened. I didn’t know until today—

Da raised a hand. Help your sister pack her things while I get mine together. When Tirk didn’t move, he said, Now.

It didn’t take long to pack. Like most villagers, they only owned three sets of clothing, a winter cloak, and little else. Two rucksacks were enough to carry it all. Da sent Tirk and Tereka into the kitchen, saying he had to finish up a few things. Tirk picked up Tereka’s pack and helped her shuffle through the door.

Mam and Juquila were sitting on stools at the table, drinking tea. Tereka couldn’t help noticing how